


The Curse

by deeblink



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deeblink/pseuds/deeblink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first of my Halloween fics...from 2009!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curse

The Curse…

They thought he was odd, always wanting to work nights; with his talents he could have had the pick of the jobs. Anywhere he chose, anywhere he wanted.

They thought he was eccentric. That’s why he wore the hat. 

They thought he was socially inept, that’s why he rarely socialised with anyone, even his team. 

But it had nothing to do with being odd,

It had nothing to do with eccentricity.

But he was socially inept. 

That’s probably how he found himself in this mess in the first place.

Eleven years ago when he’d plucked up the courage to go to that gay bar…he’d thought it was a gay bar. Turned out to be whole can of worms he’d never even considered existed except in books and movies and urban myths.

It was ridiculous, he’d been old enough to know better but the urge had really overtaken him and he’d blithely walked into the club.

The two shots of tequila he’d had to calm his nerves had plainly dulled his senses. 

He’d known it was odd, he’d known it was strange but he’d still walked through the throng of young men…and women…and even they didn’t ring any alarm bells…

When the Young Man had approached him and whispered in his ear, he’d no idea what had been said but he turned and followed the Young Man to a back room. He’d felt a euphoria that he’d never felt before, and for a few moments even thought that he was about to have a gay experience with a complete stranger.

But no.

The Young Man had turned to him and held his chin in his cold hands and tipped his head back and then smiled a smile of horror…fangs glistening in the half light of the room and then he’d felt the pain searing through every cell and fibre of his body as the Young Man bit into the flesh of his neck.

Within half a second the pain became the most erotic pleasure he’d ever experienced for just another split second. And then nothing but blackness and cold.

When he awoke he was lying on a small bed in another room and the Young Man sat in a chair across from the bed. He sat up.

He felt cold and leaden. 

“Welcome to my world.”

“Your world? Where am I?”

“Las Vegas.”

“That is my world; I live in Las Vegas.”

“Not any more.”

“But you just said…”

“…you are in Las Vegas, but you’re in my world. They are two separate places, for me, and now for you.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Did you spike my drink?” Although he couldn’t actually remember drinking anything after two tequilas in a bar. 

“Not your drink. I suppose I could say that I spiked your blood, but that wouldn’t be quite accurate.”

“My blood? What are you talking about?” 

“I drank of your blood. Tell me, do you feel strange and different, cold and yet your senses are on fire?”

“No; don’t be…” He was going to say ridiculous, but he did feel cold and yet his innards were burning. He did feel different.

“Now feel for your pulse.”

He stared at the Young Man as if he was raving mad, but he was compelled to put fingers to his neck. They was no throbbing to be felt in his vein. 

He suddenly realised that he should have been terrified; his heart should have been pounding in his chest and his breathing should have been harsh.

There was no pounding…no breath. No terror. No nothing. But he knew he wasn’t dreaming. He knew he was awake.

“Am I dead? Is this purgatory?”

The Young Man laughed. “You are dead, and I suppose it could be purgatory, but it isn’t. You were chosen by The Elders to become my first convert. You are the undead. You have died, but haven’t. You will not die, not ever…unless by exceptional means. I am responsible for you, for teaching you the ways of the Vampire.”

He laughed. But the sound echoed around the room like a maniacal laugh from a bad movie. He didn’t believe it and yet he did. Something in him accepted his lot. He was a Vampire and he knew it.

And so he spent what felt like years learning how to be a Vampire. It was just the one night. But he was dissatisfied when he was told he would have to forfeit his old life. He would not, and demanded that the Young Man take him to see The Elders.

When he confronted them they were quite magnanimous about it and said that many new recruits felt that they just wanted to remain in their old life. He would be allowed to try and they would be happy for him to do so, but they assured him it would only be a matter of days before he would fully return to his new life. 

Eleven years later The Elders were still waiting for Gil Grissom to return to his Vamperic fold. 

They hadn’t counted on the resourcefulness of the scientist. He didn’t kill to acquire blood, but managed to procure out of date supplies from the hospitals for lab work. It never found its way into the lab. Never checked in and therefore never missed. He used his speed and flight skills to siphon blood from fresh cadavers in the morgue and Doc Robbins never noticed.

Very occasionally he was able to persuade his staff to give a bag of fresh blood for an experiment. He would exchange that blood for a bag of his old blood and feast on the fresh blood.

If ever he became desperate he would take to the hills and mountains and hunt a fresh beast, but it was not as satisfying as human blood, but worked if he was in dire need. This, luckily, wasn’t often.

He used fake tan to make himself look less ghostly. And he mimicked breathing techniques for when he was in company.

He managed. 

He acquired some odd habits. To keep up appearances he sometimes had to eat food, but could regurgitate it when he was alone. Unpleasant maybe, but it was nothing to him. 

He’d worked nights anyway, and steadfastly refused to change. He could go out in daylight, but always wore sun block as a matter of course, in case he accidentally found himself out of doors in sunlight and he acquired the hat for extra protection. 

Gil Grissom being Gil Grissom meant that he fully adapted to his new life but in his old role. The Elders didn’t bother him and he was no bother for them. It was a truce.

But the Young Man was angry. His first convert who refused to kill, refused to act out the life of a Vampire. 

Nearly a year elapsed and the Young Man paid Gil Grissom a visit at his home.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m not doing anything to you. I didn’t ask you to convert me, The Elders chose me and you did as you were told. I have refused to conform to your way of life, of death. It is my choice and The Elders are willing to allow me that freedom. It is their decision to make, not yours. Leave, do not visit again.”

“I will leave.” 

The Young Man was menacing but Gil Grissom was impervious to any threat. His strength of character as a human had stood him in good stead as a Vampire. He was easily more competent than the Young Man.

But the Young Man had one trick left up his sleeve. “You cannot love, you are dead, and yet you do love; covet the body and soul of a young man with whom you work. I will not harm you, you are Vampire, but be careful of your love, because through him I will test you.” 

He turned and left at the speed with which he’d arrived.

Gil Grissom left his house not a second later and met the Young Man moments after, outside the home of Nick Stokes.

“You cannot watch him all the time; I will wait one day or one decade, but I will wait.” The young man left once more, but this time Gil Grissom remained in situ. 

He had never before visited the home of the man he loved. He was dead, or undead, but he still loved.

A window was open just a little and Gil Grissom was able to insinuate his body through the crack and into Nick’s home. Nick would probably be asleep; silently Gil Grissom moved around and entered Nick’s bedroom and there lay the man he loved. Lying on his stomach, his back bare, breathing the breaths of a man deeply asleep…and alive 

Gil Grissom ghosted his fingers over the soft skin of Nick’s back and for a moment or two, Gil Grissom believed he could be human again. That he could love and care for this man, that he could cry tears of joy, and love, instead of nothingness. Meaningless. Emptiness. 

He swore that night over the sleeping body of Nick Stokes that he would never allow harm to come to him. His life…his death, would be devoted to Nick. To keeping him safe and well.

For ten of the past eleven years that he was Vampire, Gil Grissom had cared for Nick. Gil Grissom never saw the Young Man again. But he saw allies of the Young Man; specially chosen humans to perform tasks in return for a promise of everlasting death.

Promises never fulfilled. For Amy Hendler. For Kristy Hopkins. For Nigel Crane. For Walter Gordon.

Except for Amy Hendler when Gil Grissom had intervened personally, Gil Grissom had to provide invisible strands of evidence to lead the team to Nick’s side and rescue him.

After Walter Gordon, Gil Grissom had requested a meeting with The Elders, he had described the threat of the Young Man. Even in their undead status they required some vestiges of good behaviour and they banished the Young Man from Las Vegas.

But he would always be a threat, so Gil Grissom would always need to protect Nick Stokes. He was content, he could fulfil his obligation. He may never be able to physically love Nick Stokes, but he would keep him safe and well. 

Forever...

Epilogue 

Nick Stokes was a practical man. He didn’t believe in any hocus-pocus or witchcraft. He was straightforward.

But there were two things that bothered him.

One was that he had a frequent, recurring dream for nearly as long as he’d lived in Vegas that Gil Grissom was his Guardian Angel, who looked out for him and over him twenty four hours a day. He always felt calm and cared for. Always. He never told anyone about this, ever, not even in jest. 

Secondly, that even when he’d been faced with major problems, he’d always known he would be safe. Even when Amy Hendler held the gun to his face, he knew Gil Grissom would save him. Even when Nigel Crane jumped out of his ceiling, he knew Gil Grissom would save him. Even when he lay in that casket frightened half to death he’s also know that Gil Grissom would save him. He just knew and he’d always been right. Always.

He had another secret too, and one day he thought he might just be brave enough to act on it. He thought that when he had the balls to do it, he’d ask Gil Grissom out on a date…

The End


End file.
